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807 - Day 11, Upper Clarks Fork Camp

Cathedral Rock and Cimarroncito Reservoir

Hiking to Clark's Fork

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The next morning, leaving Cimarroncito, we passed Cathedral Rock on our way to Clark's Fork. At least we would get a brief glimpse of the landmark, even if not close-up.

At the base of Cathedral Rock is the Cimarroncito Reservoir. I've heard it said that everyone takes this picture. I guess that makes me no exception. It certainly is a nice sight. For a 110 camera, this picture turned out fairly well.

Clark's Fork Camp had many scouts there. It is a focal point, a camp where many treks' paths converge just before heading off to hike the Tooth of Time. It was a staffed camp, offering a western life programme which included horseback riding. This we did. We were scheduled for the ride at 1 p.m., and so, shortly after lunch, we headed down to Clark's Fork Creek, where the stables were. I remember most of us lining up going through the wooden switchback queuing tiers (every amusement park has them). Surprisingly, there was no one else in them yet. We rode around in a partly sunny day -- small, patchy clouds passing in front of the sun every few minutes. Such is the nature of the Philmont sky.

The ride took place in the valley that is just to the north of the Tooth of Time ridge. Yellow and white wildflowers were scattered about where the ground was not covered by waist-high scrub brush. We rode single file, a bit too close for my nose's comfort. Were it not for the small clouds screening out the part of the hot sun, it would have been rather unpleasant.

The ride itself was not uneventful. If enough space got between one horse and the next, the lagging beast would break into a slow but jerking trot. I found it best to nearly stand in the saddle in times like this. One of my crewmate's saddles (I think it was Toby's) kept slipping, and so he ended up falling over to ride the horse upside-down. It is a good thing this did not happen with the horse running. I suspect that the horse had learned how to control this, and was his way of getting revenge for being treated as entertainment for city kids. We had to stop a few times to secure both saddle and scout.

That afternoon, we gathered at the camp's main fire pit to brand our boots, something we had not been able to do at Ponil. We took this opporunity to leave Philmont's mark on us. Actually, the staff there will usually let you brand almost anything that is not alive. Several boards laid around the fire pit with the Philmont brands charred into them -- a testimony to those trying their hands before charring something they themselves own.

There are two brands at Philmont, the Bar-PS (cattle brand), and the Lazy-S (horse brand). The S is backwards on both. I branded my left boot with the Bar-PS, and my right boot with the /S brand. The "beezwax" waterproofing on my boots had already darkened the leather, though, so the brands were not as easy to see as on others' boots.

Trekkers are required to bring hiking boots. However, the advisors, in the wisdom of experience, urged us to bring along tennis shoes as well. Those made by Etonic were known for their durability and light weight, and came highly recommended. I'd say that for at least half of the trek, we hiked in shoes. The lighter weight made finding your footing easier, something I wished I had thought of when climbing two days earlier at Cimarroncito. Robert decided to brand his Adidas tennis shoes. The irons ate right through the nylon sides, as you can imagine. Fortunately, he was not wearing them at the time, or Philmont would have literally left its mark on him.

About the boots: In the 80s, most hiking boots were big and clunky -- totally overdone. Mine were no exception. They were Asolo Sport brand, and technically were one size too big (size 12). They weighed a total of 6 pounds. But, they felt better on my feet and, so, we decided that comfort would be best. I did not get any blisters, so I suppose that was the best choice. Things have changed a little since then. Boots are smaller and lighter, perhaps due to fashion, perhaps due to the fact that people were still preferring to hike in tennis shoes.

There was one unforeseen benefit to wearing hiking boots -- at least for me. I had had, for several years, a callous on my right inner ankle. I think this initially came from me kicking my own ankle occasionally when I walked. Nothing seemed to make it go away. But, after two weeks of wearing boots which came up high enough to cover and protect my ankles, and socks which were thick enough to keep them moist and softened, the callous was simply gone.

Clark's Fork was also where we would have the chuckwagon dinner in a few hours. The staffer was a tall guy with a cowboy hat. He requested that two of us go to the other fire pits and help get the fire going and to prepare dinner. Everyone else sat around waiting. There was nothing better to do.

The dinner -- as is common for most all chuckwagon dinners at Philmont -- consisted of brisket, beans, and dutch-oven cobbler. After nearly two weeks on trail food, this was a welcome change.

We would stay the night just down the trail at Upper Clark's Fork, which was a dry camp. Therefore, after dinner, we packed in lots of water in our collapsable plastic jugs from Clark's Fork itself. I suppose that we should have used empty packs to hold them, but we chose to do it by hand... which soon got tiring.

Campers at Upper Clark's Fork: Michael Shearer

The water would be needed for tomorrow's breakfast, which if I recall correctly was not one of the quicker ones. And, since we would be hiking to the Tooth of Time, which had no water along the way, we wanted to be sure an have enough. By the time we got it back to the campsite, it was nearing time for the campfire and western lore programme. The sun was setting, and we would make the trip back up to Clark's Fork in the dark. The batteries of my Tekna-Lite flashlight were getting pretty weak by that point.

We gathered at the edge of a meadow. The skyline above the trees was almost nearly dark. The campfire was already going, and was sending up enough embers that I wondered whether the trees nearby might get burned. The campfire activity itself consisted of jokes, tales, songs, and treelines illuminated by the twilight. And I, who had never been one to scorn the comforts of civilisation, running water, and air conditioning, was beginning to feel a bit of remorse knowing that this would be our last night on the trail. And then, the campfire and the songs came to an end. Of the songs, the only words I remember were about eagles soaring above and the beauty of an azure sky. This was, as you know by now, the Philmont Hymn.

With this benediction, we turned and headed back to camp... I glanced at my watch which fortunately illuminated itself. It was sometime after 9 p.m. This was Philmont bedtime. We wanted to be able to get an early enough start tomorrow for the Tooth hike. Of course, so did everyone else, and it was important that we get started early enough to avoid most of the crowd.

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